


Of Sentiment Attached

by Storylandqueen



Category: Dark Matter (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Developing Relationship, Implied Two/Three and Two/Six, M/M, Nicknames, One-sided One/Two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storylandqueen/pseuds/Storylandqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Three called One 'Pretty Boy' and the time that One called Three 'Sunshine'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Sentiment Attached

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://josephmallozzi.wordpress.com/2014/12/18/december-18-2014-introducing-the-dark-matter-cast/) post that lists One as 'aka Jace Corso, aka Pretty Boy' and Three as 'aka Marcus Boone, aka Sunshine', even though I don't think it's been used in the series yet (and hopefully won't be coined by Two). 
> 
> Title taken from a line of a larger quote:  
>  _Now, I can’t look at your name without an abundance of sentiment attached to each letter_ - **Coco J. Ginger**

*** * *** Five: How many names the team needs *** * ***

 

“Maybe we should have some sort of codename system set up?” Five piped up suddenly, her eyes wide not in wonder but in curiosity as she stared around the other faces at the table, cataloging the responses to her suggestion as she lowered the cup she’d just been sipping from. “You know, something else to call each other when we’re down on a planet?”

Giving a snort, Three slouched forward a little more in his chair, elbow propped on the table as he waved his fork along with his words. “Are numbers too revealing for you now?” He asked, dry and sarcastic, making Five bite her lip. “Maybe we could just go by letters - we can call you K for kid.”

Anything that bothered Five instantly caught the attention of Two and Six, both of whom seemed to gravitate towards the youngest member of the crew with that strange sense of synchrony they'd developed lately, their stances a subtle clue of who had their support no matter what they actually thought of the issue. Four, for his part, didn’t seem to care and the Android wasn’t around, leaving One to look between them all, wondering if they were honestly about to have a disagreement during breakfast because of something like codenames. Holding back a sigh over the idea, he leaned forward with both arms resting on the table, watching as Five’s lips tightened to press together in a displeased line before she sucked in a deep breath, visibly regrouping.

“We’re wanted, aren’t we? We’re criminals,” She pointed out, sounding completely certain of herself since there wasn’t a person at the table that wasn’t accused of one crime or another. “Calling each other by numbers is pretty fishy and anyone that recognizes us will turn us in. So we should take precautions against getting caught when we go down to different planets - It would be easy, you can throw a lot of people off with just a few changes to your appearance.”

“So what you’re saying is we should all dye our hair like yours?” Three threw back immediately, prompting Two to step up, a single motion forward all it took to make everyone’s eyes snap towards her attentively.

“You know that’s not what she meant,” Two began, as if it wasn’t obvious to everyone that Three was intentionally being difficult. “And it’s not a bad idea. Depending where we go, disguises might be necessary to get what we need.”

It wasn’t a yes to Five’s suggestion, but it was the next closest thing when it came to verbally siding with someone. Truthfully, One didn’t know why they were worrying about it when none of the places they’d visited so far had been that concerned with the law and he didn’t think his double or his original or whatever Jace Corso was would be fooled by hair dye. Then again, none of them but Three knew about that and One planned on keeping his mouth shut.

“Now, I hate to interrupt,” Six said, as he interrupted, “But remember when I went to that doctor? He knew who I was. Biometrics will bust our cover and so might any place with facial recognition.”

“True,” Two admitted without fuss or making any attempt to defend the idea, not against Six, who crossed his arms and rubbed at his lower lip, expression contemplative like they could find a way to fool the systems if they just thought hard enough. They might not all have known their skills sets, but they did know certain things about themselves thanks to trial and error - Five could fly shuttles while Three most certainly couldn’t and One was fairly confident that if anyone in their group could hack into a database and fool it into not recognizing them, or giving them new identities, it would be Five.

“Look, what are the chances we’ll even need any of this on our next stop?” Three asked suddenly, kicking back from the table and dragging a hand through his hair, letting out an exaggerated sigh of exasperation as if putting up their ideas was asking so much of him. “The next colony is the convenience store of this area, right? They’re small time, won’t be any trouble for us.”

“You say that and you know what’s going to happen…” One said before he could stop himself, tone dour.

“Then maybe we need codewords so we can send messages to each other if we get in trouble.” Five suggested next, making One wonder just where the conversation was coming from, what she might have remembered to trigger the sudden need for deception and secrecy.

As Three put up his plate and fork, he moved back around to where One was sitting, making the younger man tense up as Three placed a hand on the back of his chair, bracing himself. “Oh, yeah? I’ve got some codewords for you, kid. _Help_ means you’ve gotten your little ass in trouble and _fire_ means we all go in with guns blazing, okay?” 

One could practically hear the snide little smile in Three’s voice and rolled his eyes, but he must have made some sort of noise or twitched or something, because hardly a breath later he felt Three’s hand clap down on his shoulder, squeezing tight and warm through his shirt.

“Besides, we’ve already got codenames!” Three continued, voice filled with false, mocking cheer that set One on edge, teeth grinding. “You’re the Kid, this here is Pretty Boy, and Two over there is Boss Lady, who will have your ass if you ever get in enough trouble to need to talk to someone in code.”

For a moment, silence reigned and then Two shrugged. “It is better not to get caught.” 

That was all it took for Five's shoulders to slump the slightest fraction, accepting defeat with more grace than Three was ever capable of showing by simply nodding, attention going back to the cup clasped tightly in her hands and held against her mouth as if she was inhaling it rather than sipping.

Feeling irritated on her behalf, One tipped his head back until it hit against Three's arm and Three look down in response, eyebrows quirked in silent question.

"Your codename is asshole."

 

 *** * *** Four: Who works best together *** * ***

 

With as many times as they left the ship for something, they developed a sort of ritual before going down on a planet and part of it involved the Android asking them questions from a mental checklist that honestly made her sound like a parent about to send their child on a field trip. Or at least, the Android sounded like what One assumed a parent would sound like. They did things like ask if you rested enough and if you have everything for a trip, if you’d doubled checked after you packed, didn’t they? For as oblivious and enthusiastic as the Android could seem about things, it didn’t change her ability to be an excellent caretaker on a certain level. Emotions might have been beyond her and perhaps she couldn’t comprehend the illogical impulses that made up their mental landscapes, but when it came to functionality, One had no doubt she understood how that worked perfectly.

It didn’t take many trips before they all managed to memorize the Android’s questionnaire and One ticked off the items on it mentally, nodding to confirm he was listening. Yes, he was rested, yes, he knew where they were going and the risks they were likely to face, yes, he knew how far they would be able to go in their present state unless they acquired money for food and parts (Two had ensured they all knew that one quite well at breakfast). Everything was in his pack, he was armed, he was ready to go and absolutely not resisting the urge to fiddle with the straps on his thigh holster like a child, so he would appreciate it if they would hurry up.

The Android’s speech wrapped up with her wishing them good luck, giving one of those smiles that looked painted on since she couldn’t comprehend the emotion meant behind it. But she tried, she tipped her head to one side and gave a tiny little wave, a gesture that One blamed on Five, unless it was true the Android really had spent their last absence in a city watching soap operas stored in a database in order to observe more human social cues. 

It was either sweet or disturbing, One wasn't sure, but he gave a crooked little smile that was nothing more than the quirk at one corner of his lips when he glanced back over his shoulder before settling into the shuttle, hoping they could find a job that didn’t make him feel like a bad guy. It didn’t matter how much someone said about necessary evils, it didn’t make One enjoy it any more than he liked listening to Two lay out in crisp, analytical terms just how far their resources would take them, her words taking on a brittle edge when she had to repeat bad statistics too many times. At least the Android always sounded chipper, no matter how dreary or stressful her news.

He didn’t want to think about it, but One knew they had a lot riding on the success of their trip to the planet, that while it wasn’t as bad as it had been in the beginning, they were backsliding again in a way that made Two as sharp and sensitive as a live wire, likely to go off with devastating effect if not handled properly. She was a good leader, a protective captain, but she was not soft, she would not let them feel bad about their circumstances or settle for anything less than their absolute best as long as they could change what was happening to them. That had to be a lot of pressure, One knew that, but that didn’t make it pleasant to be around since Two wouldn’t allow him close enough to _help…_

Thoughts drifting along paths dealing with obligation and what they could expect based on the pattern of luck they’d had lately, One didn’t notice much of the short trip from the Raza down to the planet, at least not until Five gave his little post flight statement, letting them know they were good and ready to depart. That, too, was routine, but their routine was going to end soon because once they walked off the shuttle, they would go off script since things never seemed to go the way anyone expected. That part, no matter how difficult it could be, was the exciting bit because no matter how much the Android might tell him about a planet, no matter where he might have traveled before, it always felt like the first time when One stepped off the shuttle into a new place.

He hoped that sometimes it was.

“We’re going to stay in teams while we’re on the planet,” Two said as they began to stand to leave the shuttle, because that was part of the ritual as well, Two reminding them of their mission summary and goals as well as giving any final instructions. They were always in teams, always the same teams, and One moved automatically to join Three before she announced the teams.

“Four will go with Five, I’m with Three, and Six is sticking with One.”

_“What?”_

One actually wasn’t certain who spoke first since a chorus of voices raised for that single question, his among them. Four was the only one that hadn’t voiced it, if One had to guess since he was the only one not staring at Two with some mix of surprise and astonishment, her own disposition not amused as she stared at them with narrowed eyes, a hand on her hip. 

“Is that order too hard to follow?” She asked, one eyebrow arching.

“It’s not hard, it’s just stupid,” Three declared emphatically, taking a step forward and angling to the side. If One hadn’t known better, he would have thought Three was trying to edge closer to him instead of moving closer to challenge Two as he proceeded to voice his opinion. “You’ve kept us in the same teams so long that we know each other. We’re not going to be as effective if you change that around.”

“Effective?” It was amazing how much condescending disbelief Two could put into one word to make it convey the expression of 'bullshit' no matter what she said. “Is that what you call all the trouble you and One routinely get yourselves in?”

“In all fairness,” One piped up, shoving his hands in his pockets as he tried not to fidget impatiently, “That’s just the cost of teaming up with Three, it doesn’t matter who his partner is.”

“Gee, thanks. It’s a delight working with you, too,” Three shot back, as if he hadn’t just been fighting to keep them on the side team. “It’s you and your face that always gets us in trouble.”

“Now what does that mean?” One demanded testily, frowning in disapproval and going completely ignored by Three.

“I’m warning you, Pretty Boy needs to be on my team. I’d be an asset for anyone, but splitting us up is just going to mean double the trouble because no one else will know how to handle him.” Three predicted, his fingers tapping erratically against the holster for one of his guns, something small that One didn’t remember the name of. 

“We’ll find out who the troublemaker is by switching teams,” Two repeated more firmly and it felt like a blow because One didn’t know if she meant it as a message or not. He used to resent going out as a team with Three and maybe he’d grown to tolerate it, but that didn’t mean he ever forgot why he went along with it in the first place. Two claimed she didn’t trust Three, so maybe the change in teams meant she wanted to keep an eye on him personally because she didn’t trust One anymore.

Then again, she was also screwing Three, so maybe trust didn’t enter the equation as much as lust did. Maybe it didn’t matter if she trusted Three or One, because she knew which one of them she wanted to kiss and maybe Two had plans to do just that in some dark little alley in the city or somewhere else away from the ship, maybe she had ideas to do more than that with Three and suddenly One couldn’t take his line of thought anymore.

Head jerking sharply again, One swallowed down bile as his insides churned dangerously, stomach contents purely acidic as he grit his teeth, not wanting to look at Two or Three. “Going to start leaving the trouble child on the ship with the Android?” He muttered ungraciously.

“We’ll see,” Two said dryly before taking off, clearly not willing to discuss the issue any longer. “Let’s go.” 

 

 *** * *** Three: Why mingling with locals is dangerous *** * ***

 

Despite Three’s doomsaying, not all of their trips to planets or other ships resulted in something bad happening. They had to get lucky eventually and no, despite what Three said, it wasn’t all dependent on him because they all had very important skills that One would gratefully acknowledge whenever they saved his life or the life of someone else. Missions would work out, they’d get money for supplies, and sometimes One didn’t feel like he was that much of a criminal no matter what wanted posters with his face said.

Wanted posters with Jace Corso’s face.

Sometimes, but only sometimes, One wondered what would happen if he went to a doctor and let them take a blood sample the same way Six did, what name would come up and if there would still be a rap sheet attached to it.

He wasn’t a saint, One knew that and it was impossible to forget whenever he looked at Three from the corner of his eye during a vote, but Two was wrong about something. Learning he was a criminal, even if it was the wrong criminal, hadn’t made him want to be a hero, One just couldn’t accept the idea of walking into a bad situation and not at least trying to leave things better than you found them. That wasn’t being a hero, that was simply being a decent person that didn’t constantly factor in the gain of every action.

Thankfully not every stop they made or job they took required them to choose the lesser of two evils. Sometimes there wasn’t anyone to fight because they visited places that were friendly and unremarkable, occasionally to the point where they didn’t all go and teams weren’t required. They could go down and do their own thing, Two was willing to trust their judgement as long as they all accepted the cost of disappointing her. It left One feeling slightly guilty to admit it, but he liked the trips out when he wasn’t around Two more than he liked being paired with her.

Working together as partners was awkward for him even if Two seemed not to care, completely confident in her choices without even the slightest hint of regret to leave her uncomfortable. For Two, it was as if it never happened, but for One, he saw his leader and the woman that turned him down, which translated in his mind to not being good enough, to Two watching him and evaluating him. The idea of someone constantly staring over his shoulder and finding him or his actions lacking was distracting and led to One constantly glancing over at Two in order to check if her eyes were on him, if she looked displeased or proud, but instead she was always so professional and One just couldn’t manage that.

It was just easier for them to work separately. Sometimes things worked out like that.

Only half the crew went down to visit the closest planet, mostly because it was hardly more than a local market and the list of things they needed was small and entrusted to Six, who Two apparently trusted to carry out the job in her stead. Neither One or Three were asked to take care of the list, but then again, Three hadn’t offered, he’d just strolled his way onto the Shuttle after making up his mind at the last minute to join the outing while saying something about secret fun and back alleys. One wasn’t certain if that meant he was looking for sex or contraband since either option made it sound like Three was looking for trouble and he wanted nothing to do with it beyond another chance to prove that Three was always the reason things took a turn for the worse.

Unfortunately, that would probably make Five point out to him again that saying ‘I told you so’ was childish, so he’d probably only say it to Three. 

When they left the shuttle, Three immediately went off with a grin, a laugh, and a comment about fun that made One bite his tongue to keep from asking how many laws he was planning on breaking. At a slower pace than Three, Six went off to take care of the list while muttering to himself about finding something nice for Five and Two since Two had given him a reserved little smile along with the list and told Six to bring her back a souvenir since she was staying on the ship. Previously, One would have been willing to swear that Two reserved smiles like that for Five and considering she’d never brought back any souvenirs from the other planets they visited, One wasn’t sure what was so special about their latest planet, either, but decided it was better just not to think about it.

So what if she suddenly wanted a souvenir suddenly? Two was allowed to collect odd things from their travels just like Six could pick them out for her. Two was allowed to bang Three, just like Three could go out searching for trouble in back alleys.

… it didn’t make _sense_ to One, but they were allowed.

With both Three and Six gone off on their separate tasks, One was left alone without any particular goal and the same dim hope that came with visiting anywhere that he wouldn’t run into Jace and that his secret wouldn’t come to light quite yet. 

Out of the three crewmembers to visit the planet, One might have been the only person not searching for something, but that didn’t stop a trio of girls from finding him, one of them declaring they’d been looking for a guy like him for _days_. When you were a wanted fugitive, hearing things like that never boded well even when coming from a small group of women that tittered as they gushed over him, their explanation easing the hesitation One felt. The tallest in the trio had a birthday coming up and they’d been trying to think of an interesting way to spend it, something different and special, and One apparently was new and interesting, so he could be their special friend and why hadn’t they seen him around before?

One wasn’t certain, but he was pretty sure they wanted an orgy.

“I’m here on a ship,” He explained as one of them dragged her nails along his bare arm, fluttering her lashes in an attempt to be coy or seductive, he didn’t really know, but the soft cooing noises they made only caused him to think of predators that had spotted their next meal. “We’re leaving today, so I can’t stay for your party.”

“We could have it early. You could be a great gift,” A petite blonde told him, lips curved in a wide smile and parted enough that One could see teeth.

Trying to translate innuendo into regular words, he shook his head because going off with three strangers was not a wise tactical move, nor was it something he had time for. Besides, going off with a group of strangers for sex was something Three would do, which made the answer to their offer a resounding _no_. 

“I think there’s a rule about opening presents early,” One replied tactfully. “But thank you.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re pretty?” The third woman asked abruptly, speaking up for the first time.

Her comment was enough to make One blink in surprise before he pressed his lips into a thin line, trying not to give into the urge to give an wry little smile. “Yeah,” One admitted, the emotion he’d managed to keep from his face bleeding into his voice. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Heard what before?” A new voice asked as an arm slung around his shoulders, a warm weight suddenly pressing against his side and causing One to squeeze his eyes shut as he took a moment to reclaim his patience and marveled at the situation. Three couldn’t have shown up more swiftly if One’s own thoughts had summoned him and One opened his eyes as he began to exhale in a carefully controlled breath, counting how long it took all the air to leave his lungs.

The women were looking between the pair of them curiously, not hiding the speculative way their eyes wandered while the third answered, “That he’s pretty. We were asking him to come have some fun with us.”

Since waking back up without any memories, there had been days when One thought the universe was out to get him in one way or another, either to do him in with violence or embarrassment. He’d hoped Three’s question would have gone without being answered, but no, of course they weren’t going to hold back when it came to telling an attractive older guy whatever he wanted to hear, of course he wouldn’t be spared that embarrassment. As Three’s arm tightened around his shoulders, One could predict how the conversation was about to turn and knew it would begin with the sound of Three’s laughter.

There would be a joke and One would be the subject, Three would call him pretty and then say something dismissive, would insert himself as superior with some smug remark, would probably let go of One to physically insert himself in the middle of things as well. He’d be cocky in the way that made One struggle to remember his temper and to keep his tongue, but apparently worked when it came to get in Two’s pants, and then Three would successfully charm the women into switching One out for him.

Which worked for One since he didn’t want their attention, but he’d still have to listen to Three’s boasts back on the Raza and didn’t Three have any shame at all? 

A huff of laughter sounded next to his ear, just like One knew it would, and Three started talking right on cue. “Yeah, he’s definitely heard that one,” He declared, raising a hand and patting at One’s cheek, making him flinch away and mutter, “Stop it.” He wasn't going to fight Three for their attention or get in his way, but he wasn't going to put up with Three mocking him to gain points with strangers.

“Isn’t he cute when he’s embarrassed?” Three asked the women, sounding completely unrepentant. “Guess that’s why he’s my Pretty Boy, but he’s just mine. Now I hate to disappoint new ladies I meet, especially those as pretty as you three, but we’ve got to go. Find someone else to have fun with.”

One’s head twisted around so he could stare in disbelief at Three halfway through his answer and the disappointed tutting noises of the women hardly registered in his mind as he soundlessly mouthed _‘what’_. Three had gone way off script from what One expected, using the hand he’d patted One’s cheek with to shoo the women away while simultaneously twisting one with the arm still wrapped tightly around his shoulders, hardly waiting until he was finished talking before leaving. Just walking away from the trio seemed rude on some level, but One didn’t fight Three’s guidance, too busy noticing the way Three’s reckless smile fell away just as soon as their backs were turned.

“What,” One asked after they were too far away to be heard, “Was that about?”

The arm around his shoulders slipped away as Three snorted, replying shortly, “Mad that I pulled you away from your fan club, Pretty Boy?” 

“That’s not what I asked,” One pointed out, not planning on being distracted that easily. “And stop being a jack ass.”

“A jack ass? What did I do to offend your noble sensibilities now?” Three hardly glanced at him, too busy shouldering past a merchant and One had the feeling the only reason he even bothered to look was to make sure One was still following after him in the crowd.

“You think I don’t know I’m the only guy you gave a pet name to? I’m not a girl, I know you’re mocking me every time you call me that. Just because they meant it doesn’t mean I needed you to save me from them.” It didn’t mean One understood why Three hadn’t gone with them, either - did he just assume anyone that would be interested in One wouldn’t consider Three to be their type? Or maybe having a blonde in the mix was a deal breaker since Three had never mentioned paying for a blonde before.

“For crying out loud,” Three complained with a groan, coming to a stop just long enough to take hold of One’s arm and pull him down a side street. It was an unnecessary move since One wasn’t going to just let their argument drop, but it did tempt him to stop walking, to dig in his heels and refuse to move if Three was so eager to get him going in one direction.

 _But that would be childish_ , a voice that sounded disturbingly like Five’s said inside One’s head.

“Listen here,” Three instructed, sounding annoyed. “I trust you to hold your own in a firefight and sometimes I even trust you to watch my back in them, that’s the only kind of situation it’s any of my damn business to save you from. If you can’t handle your own against horny market girls, that’s your own problem, I didn’t even know what you were talking about until Blondie told me.”

That was strangely reassuring and a larger vote of confidence than One expected from Three, causing a puzzled frown to mar his features as he rolled the words around in his mind. “Good,” He said, feeling a little unbalanced because he was pretty sure Three just said he trusted him in some way, but also implied he couldn’t handle himself around girls. Considering his luck with Two, Three might have had a point. “Are you going to stop calling me Pretty Boy now?”

“Hell no,” Three answered without hesitation.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re damn pretty, that’s why.” Three announced, sounding completely unapologetic about it. “You might be a guy, but it doesn’t make me blind to you being attractive.”

It occurred to One in that moment that Three, while obviously distracted by the way he was checking around a corner before taking off at a speed slightly faster than a walk, also sounded completely serious in a way that was rare from someone constantly driving him up the wall with smart ass remarks. Never easily prone to blushing, One instead felt his throat go tight as he became flummoxed and speechless by how flattered he felt. For a moment, for just a very brief splinter of time, One thought it did make sense why Two chose Three.

If Three found his silence after the line of questioning odd, he didn’t remark on it, didn’t even try to drag One back into conversation as he tried to overcome the sensation of having swallowed his tongue. Three never had answered his original question, but that was fine since One was suddenly desperate for a subject change and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What are you looking for?”

“Not a what,” Three corrected. “A who. Hope Six cut his shopping short.”

Because it was Three and One really had worked with him on more tasks than was probably wise for his sanity, One didn’t need to ask why before a sense of resigned dread began to filter through his senses. “How many laws did you break?” He asked in exasperation, finally giving into the urge he'd felt when Three first joined their outing while simultaneously looking around for anyone that seemed particularly murderous. Bickering and being on the look-out for threats was a special brand of skill that One had needed to perfect in short order after he started working with Three, which meant he'd been working on how to do it in the same unthinkingly habitual way he breathed ever since the start of his memory.

Three shrugged and answered almost nonchalantly, as if his hand didn’t keep twitching like he wanted to reach for a gun. “You think I’ve started counting now? That’s what I have you for.”

“Someone should pay me for dealing with you.” One complained, but that time he was the person to reach out and push Three along, urging him to go faster.

 

 *** * *** Two: When there's something to protect *** * ***

 

For every job or mission or pit stop that went right, there were at least triple the amount that went wrong, or at least that was the statistic that One would guess. He felt sure that if he asked the Android, she’d be able to give a complete count of how many missions they’d been on that went smoothly and how many simple visits somewhere turned into an unexpected showdown, but One didn’t need the actual numbers to know that generally speaking, things didn’t go in their favor.

Case in point, their current situation that really wasn’t anyone’s fault at all as much as it was a case of bad luck coming around to visit like an old, unshakable friend. No one had suggested stopping by the planet because they all knew that they needed to, had even considered being near the planet to be something in their favor since the Raza had suffered damage after the last job Calchek sent them on and Two did not take damage to her ship well. The nearest planet in the colony would be able to help with that, however, since it mostly seemed to be a shipyard, a place dedicated to technology and specializing in modes of transport that felt like a cold and soulless factory. It should have been one of those simple things, just another routine trip down to pick up supplies the Android said they needed, all of it easily paid for with Calchek’s money, so it wasn’t even like they were trying to steal anything.

The one time none of them tried anything illegal and it still went to shit, all thanks to the second closest planet in the colony.

The colony was small, each planet collected within it focusing on a specific task in the effort to perfect it and the second closest was, in essence, the grocery planet. All the food for the colony exported from one place and all of the farmers growing steadily more angry about it, about being dependent on the technology of others and being used for manual labor while being deprived of the creature comforts afforded to the rest of the colony. They were out of sight and therefore out of mind, uncared for and abandoned as long as they supplied food, something that was bringing in less money than usual thanks to a new blight.

Suddenly their food supply was lessened and wasn’t as trusted while their people had to work harder for less, stress and disappointment straining tempers until the natives of the agricultural planet began planning to revolt. It all seemed medieval, but that didn’t stop it from being a very real and very current problem when the unveiling of their plan coincided with the Raza’s visit to the engineering planet.

Afterwards, when the dust had settled and the loss of blood had been stopped, the crew would find out that the other planet, tired of being glorified farmers, had developed their own rudimentary forms of weaponry, had offered poison and slit throats to take control of a visiting cargo ship and then filled it with homemade bombs before making the trip to their neighboring planet. Wars between planets in a colony were not the business of the Raza, they weren’t being paid to step in or take a side in the dispute so it shouldn’t have been their problem that rogue agriculturalists were going to blow up buildings.

Except, of course, for the fact that Five and Six were caught inside one of those buildings - that made it their problem.

In a different part of the city with Four, One could hear screams, could see smoke rising from where a shuttle had been sent to crash, but he didn’t know that yet, all he knew was the announcement of a hostile invasion, Five’s voice on the radio saying the building they were in was being raided before the signal cut out. Jammed, Four suggested, something to keep people from interacting with those trapped inside the building since they could still communicate just fine with the rest of their team, proven by the way Four was giving an update on their status and Three was cursing an audible blue streak despite being across the factory complex.

“Four, how long until you and One can reach the control center?” Two asked, the connection staticky and distorted, but strong enough for her determination to ring out clearly across the connection.

“Who am I supposed to fucking shoot here?” Three complained, his voice sounding a little more distant and backed by gunfire. “Farmers may have the Kid and Six, but these natives are assholes.”

“Are you siding with the people that kidnapped our friends?” One asked in disbelief before he could stop himself, looking around a corner before running along a walkway, feeling out in the open and unsure exactly where the threat would come from. The announcement had warned of violence spilling out before the connection had been caught, making them lose contact with their other crewmembers, people he called friends even though he wasn’t certain Three considered any of them to be friends or just coworkers.

“Our damned guides here don't want us getting involved in their political business,” Three snapped, his breathing sounding heavy and his voice tense, betraying that both Three and his guns were on a hair trigger. “They weren’t kidnapped, they were in the wrong damn building.” 

One experienced a moment of disorientation, either because of something exploding in the distance, seeing a worker attack a stranger with a welding torch, or from realizing he and Three were on opposite sides of the conversation than they should be. “So you’re not saying we should shoot everyone?” He asked suspiciously.

“Of course we should shoot everyone, they’re messing up my day,” Three announced in a long-suffering tone that was far more familiar to hear, his voice followed by a sound One was sad to realize he recognized as the gun Three named ‘Bubba’ discharging. “This is what happens when you mess with the team structure, it throws off the natural balance.”

Watching as Four sliced through someone’s throat, One felt warm blood splatter on his face before he jumped over a railing, landing on metal steps that rang out in protest of his landing, grip just a shade too tight on his handgun when pain lanced up his wounded side. Knowing that Four was right behind him, One didn’t halt his motions for any longer than necessary before running down the stairs, trying to make it to the ground level so they could go back through the underground tunnels they’d used to get there in the first place, assuming they could remember the way. 

“This has nothing to do with the team selection,” Two’s voice came as a hiss, a stern reply to a comment One hadn’t realized was anything more than Three ranting.

“We wouldn’t be having this problem if I’d teamed up with One because then you’d be with Five instead of worrying out of your damn mind about her.”

As far as crass language went, Three was the worst about it, slipping in expressions with four letters for emphasis no matter what his mood, but he was being excessive about it by his standards and something seemed off about his conversation with Two as she replied succinctly, “I’m not worried. Six will take care of her.”

“You're also not lying, right? He’ll take care of her, you would have busted your asses out of that damn building while I would be hightailing it out of here with Pretty Boy and Six would have the shuttle waiting for us so we could blow this place,” was Three’s rebuttal, the scenario he painted as idyllic as could be for an unexpected attack, but it also let One pinpoint just what was so wrong about the exchange between One and Three.

They were _arguing._

It wasn’t the bickering One did with Three, the needling words that got under One’s skin and forced him to react while Three laughed and gave another verbal prod. No, he was challenging Two’s actions, her leadership, and that was something that wouldn’t have happened if she’d been with anyone else, that was the flaw of putting them on the same team. It wouldn’t have happened with One, who might have suggested alternatives, but would have shut up when she gave him that look that asked if he was ready to step up the way she had. Four would have given her a dispassionate analysis of her plans, of potential flaws it held and yet somehow not have been critical because tactics were something he was good at and Two would actually listen, just the same way she would listen to Six, who wouldn’t countermand her and would instead work with her. And as for Five… she trusted Two. There wouldn’t have been any problems there.

He didn’t want to admit it, but it was enough to make One think both he and Three had been right before - they attracted more trouble than the rest and things worked out better when they were together and out of Two’s way because they actually were a good team. As much as One didn’t want to give Three the credit, the man might have had a point about messing with the natural order of things.

“We don’t have time for this,” Four inserted into the conversation, neatly summing up what One was thinking and probably what Two was about to say.

“We’ll meet at the Exchange point,” Two instructed, with Three chiming in gruffly, “Don’t get lost.”

“Easier said than done,” One muttered, blinking blood of out his eye and reaching up to wipe it away, back pressed against a wall before taking another turn.

The Exchange was an underground storage shed of sorts, a place where people dropped off broken parts or devices they no longer wanted and were allowed to take anything else that had been abandoned by anyone else. It was a sad, desolate place to One, something too cold and foreign for him to be comfortable, but Five had looked at it like it was a playground before she took off with Six, going back into the building above while Two and Three went to the open streets, the underground corridors connecting facilities left to One and Four. As long as they didn’t get turned around, they would hopefully be in position and have the lower levels cleared out by the time Two and Three arrived, and One left out a breath of relief over Four pushing past him to take the lead in the labyrinth known as the lower levels.

He knew that Four was moving slowly out of caution than any regard for the way One was injured, but It took longer than One wanted for them to backtrack to the Exchange. Following the theme of the day, it wasn’t easy to get there and it wasn't only because of the labyrinth of tunnels, but also that the Exchange was filled with people sorting through the detritus for anything useful, maybe even components to make more bombs for all One knew. At least they weren’t paying close attention, only a few not distracted as One and Four burst in, shining daggers flying through the air while One came in with his gun up, pointing and firing using a motion that was instinctual even if he didn’t remember learning it. 

Bodies fell and shouts cut off, blood draining onto the floor as people tried to either fight or flee, unable to contact their friends upstarts because of the same jamming system that kept the crew of the Raza from reaching Five and Six. The haphazardly stacked shelves and piles of random, yet to be organized equipment offered hiding places for more potential threats and the search to confirm the place as clear was still process when a door banged open loudly, making One jump as he saw Four spin in his peripheral vision.

A nonverbal gesture was exchanged between One and Four, the pair moving their separate ways so they could surround any potential threat that might have joined them. Reaching up to wipe blood away with the back of the hand holding his gun, One crept forward with his body angled to make himself a smaller target and to protect his wounded side as he tried making as little noise as possible. It proved to be a useless effort when something on a shelf slipped, clattering down loudly as One made a pained expression at the exposing noise, giving up subtlety in favor of throwing himself around the corner with his gun drawn only to find an even bigger gun pointed at his face.

“Damn it, Three,” One breathed out, lowering his gun. “Put Bubba away.”

Three was already shouldering the weapon before One finished speaking, muttering, “Let me get a look at you,” and whistling lowly as his eyes traveled over One. Having Three’s gaze on him stung like salt on a wound and it lingered at the bloody stain on his shirt more than the cut above his eye. One knew he had to be covered in blood, both his own and that of other people and Three’s hand reached out to prod at his side, causing One to draw back with a hiss. If asked, One would say he was hardly nicked, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt without the press of fingertips on torn skin and the truth was he'd never been stupid enough to become injured to such an extent before. 

“Do you know what’s going on up above?” Two asked, her weapon holstered as she examined the bodies around them for anything useful.

“They probably know we’re here,” Four said.

Two nodded, accepting his assessment without reservation before flicking her eyes in the direction of One and Three. “He good?”

“He’ll live,” Three announced before One could assure her that he was fine or worse, say he didn’t know she cared.

“We need a plan,” Two said, once again taking her crew members at their word and pushing forward to complete their objective. She’d straightened up and was staring at the doorway that led to the staircase opening into the overhead building, arms crossed and fingers tapping in a way One didn’t know to translate as uncertain or contemplative.

“Easy. They already know we’re here, so we go charging upstarts, shoot everything up, and get our people back.” Three said, as if it was ever that simple. 

“That’s not a plan.”

“It’s better than standing around doing nothing.”

“Four,” One interjected quickly, not making any attempt to hide the way he elbowed Three to make him shut up. “What do you think?”

Gaze shrewd and discerning, Four inclined his head towards the hatch and started talking, giving out a timeline and predictions about casualties, stating logical conclusions that would hopefully soothe Two’s need to have some idea of what they’d be walking into. There was tension crackling along her skin like electricity and One wasn’t oblivious to the way Three was almost vibrating by his side, hand never leaving his gun in a way that perfectly showcased how riled up he was, how much both of them were compared to One and Four and they shouldn’t have been. Bad things had happened before, accidents or attacks that left them separated from each other and it was always dealt with by everyone in a far calmer manner, that meant One was missing something.

“Did you fight the entire way here?” One questioned in a quick undertone, turning his face to look at Three suspiciously. 

“Nope,” Three replied, the answer far too short and flat for One to believe it.

“Are you trying to start a fight now?”

“Don’t start giving me shit,” Three said in a low murmur, not even looking at One as he kept observing Two and Four, gaze unwavering, expression unflinching, and trigger finger twitching. “I’m a lone wolf, you should know that by now. I don’t take orders well and I’m not a team player. A sunny disposition only extends so far.”

Three sighed and it sounded like pressure being released on a sealed room, the shift of his body putting One in the mind of a hunt preparing to move onto it’s prey and therefore not to be prodded, but One didn’t pause before saying, “I’m sorry, I thought we were talking about you.”

A quick glance was cast his way, just a brief flicker of attention and an even shorter flash of a sharp smile made up of teeth. “Talk about me all you want,” Three said invitingly, his tone normal as he took off, seemingly uncaring of the way his crewmates were staring as he made for the door. “I’ve got people to rescue. Let me know how the plan development goes for you.”

“Three!” Two shouted in reprimand, but Three had already thrown open the door and raced up the stairs, the sound of gunfire exploding as One tried to push himself past Four in the doorway to follow. “Does he have a death wish?” Two added in complaint as she chased after Three, the question making One’s stomach clench and twist.

It was something he would ask Three afterwards, or at least One told himself that, because the truth was he wouldn’t ask that question, not yet. It wasn’t something he wanted to know, not when the answer could be yes, and there would be things to focus on that were so much better like getting injuries taken care of and trying not to get pulled into the mess the Colony was making of itself as its planets went to war. Or better still, appreciating the way the tension fled from Two’s face to be replaced by a smile when Five reached out to take her hand, the connecting point of their fingers disappearing completely with Six placed his own large hand over both of theirs.

It was nice to see a moment like that, but it almost felt wrong to be a witness to it and One excused himself as quickly as possible, longing for the solitude of his own room as fatigue took root in his bones. Of course that meant the day’s final way of doing exactly the opposite of what was expected meant he didn’t even get the privacy of slumping into a tired heap of bruised flesh where no one could see because Three was there, waiting on the couch with his arms spread out along the back.

Pausing just for a moment in the doorway, One bit back all of the snarky comments dancing on his tongue as Three quirked his eyebrows, his hands lifting in a silent gesture as if inviting One into his own room. Deciding he was tired and Three wasn’t worth it, One sighed and crossed the room to join Three on the couch in a motion that was more of a fall than any attempt to sit, his shoulders sagging in exhaustion while Three watched with an expectant look that ensured One couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, rubbing a hand along his face.

“Just coming to check on you,” Three answered casually, picking at a loose thread on the blanket One kept spread across the back of the couch, a gift from a grateful stranger he’d met on another planet. “You were the only one unprofessional enough to get hurt today.”

“Unprofessional,” One parroted in disbelief, apparently not tired enough yet to stop being surprised by Three’s interpretation of things. “I was unprofessional? I’m not the one that spent the entire time picking a fight with our captain.”

“I had a plan,” Three interrupted with false offense.

“To go in guns blazing? Great plan, really professional to go running off into danger by yourself for a rescue mission, that seems exactly like what a lone wolf would do.” One said, not realizing how true the words were until he said them. Three, for all of his insults and snark, didn’t hesitate to watch someone’s back or get into a bad situation whenever the need arrived because what he said and did were different, like how he would threaten to leave and never did. It was an enlightening moment, an epiphany that made him blurt out accusingly, “You worry about us.”

“Maybe I do,” Three threw back carelessly before a look passed across his face, a moment of surprise like he didn’t mean to actually say that.

The response made One smile genuinely at the strangely endearing response for the space of a heartbeat, continuing, “You care what happens to us.”

Three didn't slip up again with honesty again, instead leaning in to reply with a hushed, conspiratorial tone, “No one will ever believe you. I’d shoot you before you could ever tell on me.”

Huffing out a laugh at the macho posturing that hurt as it made something pull, One reclined against the couch in a lazy slouch, head falling to rest on the back and his hair ruffled when Three moved his arm out of the way. “You care,” One repeated as he shut his eyes to the view of the ceiling, trying to make the dizziness go away. “Agree to agree.”

“I’m going to shoot you,” Three threatened again without heat as One heard him shift on the couch. “You don’t need anyone to worry about you, do you? All bandaged up and that cut on your face won’t even scar, you’ll still be pretty.”

“Thanks,” One muttered, resisting the urge to reach up and touch his head. None of his injuries were as severe as they’d seemed when he’d gotten them, but all of the Raza crew seemed lucky enough to escape serious injury no matter what mess they got themselves into. “Head wounds always bleed a lot.”

“Yeah,” Three agreed, and maybe he said more, but One was too busy falling asleep to hear it.

And afterwards, because there was always so much that happened afterwards, One woke up with his body curled on the couch and the blanket with the loose thread pulled over him. He tried telling himself that he likely got cold and grabbed it in his sleep, but try as he might, One couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

Three worried.

He cared.

 

 *** * *** One: Where faith is proven most *** * ***

 

Secrets about identities and caring aside, One and Three did not always agree to agree, that particular deal something they’d started backsliding on so long ago that One didn’t know when it started. It hadn’t been something of intentional, open defiance, but more like little missteps where he opened his mouth before thinking something through to receive a sharp kick to the leg or a pinch to the thigh. They would usually come halfway through whatever One was saying, giving him a chance to lay out his own opinion and then verbally explore a different option so that he appeared to be playing devil’s advocate and he could follow Three’s vote without looking like he couldn’t make up his mind without immediately changing it the moment afterwards.

But sometimes it didn’t happen like that. With some issues, Three didn’t stop him, One actually was allowed to voice his opinion on meal choices and One didn’t have to agree with Three as long as enough people still voted on what he wanted.

“It’s better that way,” Three had explained to him once. “If you agree with me all the time, it’s going to be fishy and people will want to know what you’re kissing up for. You can vote however you want as long as I have enough support backing me, you have to be wrong some of the time.”

It was that simple arrogance of assuming his opinion was always going to be the right choice that made One want to disagree with everything he said just to be contrary, but he never did. Instead he learned to glance over at Three whenever a decision was called to a vote, biting back whatever instinctual comment was on his tongue in order to listen and let Three have his say first so he would know what he was supposed to be supporting. 

One wasn’t perfect at it, he’d forget to wait at times when his opinion was strong and Three would let him get away with it if he thought he had the votes or just didn’t care how the decision fell. It could be hard to figure out which reason was motivating Three, at least until he would tap One’s leg, signalling the need to change a vote. It wasn’t the most subtle of a system, but no one ever said anything if they tied together the way Three would touch him and One would change his mind, maybe they never saw the motions or didn’t consider them noteworthy.

Three could be a touchy guy, after all, or at least he was in One’s experience. 

There weren’t any official rules involving voting on things, but just like One and Three’s system, everyone understood how things worked without anything needing to be said. So unofficially, anything someone wanted to bring up for voting, unless it was very important and time sensitive, was brought up at mealtime and it would have been a miracle that they all somehow managed to get together for breakfast and dinner if it wasn’t for the fact that the Android gave them all wake-up calls and reminders.

Three had tried to stop her, had ranted about how they were adults that could sleep in if they wanted to and didn’t need a machine that couldn’t eat to remind them about their meals, but it was never of any use. It would get him that wide eyed look and the Android would say, “Of course you can.”

Privately, One liked to think she was laughing at Three even though he knew it was impossible. Unless Five or Two altered her programming, but he wasn’t going to ask.

But that was not the point, what was important was that even if they could sleep in or skip breakfast, they all shuffled in around the same time to eat, usually in various stages of awareness and when the Android recommended they take the time for dinner, they would show up then as well. Lunch was, apparently, not as important a meal by the Android’s calculations, but dinner was important because that was when they would plan and discuss whatever needed to be brought to everyone’s attention and voted on.

If they had the strange roast they’d picked up from the last planet or finally ate some weird, healthy option they picked up several stops back was not an important issue, it didn’t matter what the end result was since everyone always ate at the end and there had only been a single incident of an allergic reaction. Six was fine for the most part, there wasn’t anything fatal about his mouth tingling or his lips and tongue swelling enough that talking became cumbersome, the notes he hastily wrote to explain his problem paired with annoyed expressions instead of terror. 

It was an easy thing for the Android, who met them in medical, to diagnose and an even easier thing to fix, simple to avoid as long as Six stayed away from fish. So no, food wasn’t important, but choosing to go right or left, as much as there _was_ a right or left in space, could be important depending on where they would take them. 

How they responded to Calchek’s latest job was always important.

“Are we sure this guy isn’t trying to kill us?” One asked after the end of their latest transmission with the man, turning on his heels and walking towards their kitchen or mess room or whatever any of the others called it. It was likely too late for lunch and too early for dinner, so leave it to Calchek to throw off their scheduling just because of some passing fancy he suddenly had to notify them about.

Call him a cynic, but One’s trust didn’t even stretch as wide as the man’s humble streak. Or his patience, because they’d dealt with Calchek enough for One to know that when he said he had to let them know of something ‘immediately’, what he meant was he wanted results at that very moment. The man’s annoying and demanding tendencies sparked One’s desire to be contrary, to dig his heels in and not budge until someone made him, but Calchek was the closest thing to a steady employer they had.

Dropping himself down in his usual chair, One sprawled and sighed, adding, “He never gives us the full story and - oh, sorry.”

Three had dropped into the chair next to him, their knees knocking together as he hooked his arms along the back of the chair in his usual physical display that was so blatant it took One a moment to remember what he was saying. Oh, he was apologizing because he and Three had bumped into each other, something that he didn’t need to apologize for since it was completely Three’s fault, but at least it had stopped him talking. The others had all filed into the room as well, taking up various places if not their seats and they were going to debate their newest mission, something that was important and he actually needed to figure out Three’s stance on.

Money was good, committing crime was nothing, but walking into something where the odds were stacked against them and they were in severe danger? Three would tell the world to go fuck itself before agreeing to put any of them at risk and even if he and One didn’t always see eye to eye didn’t meant One didn’t acknowledge they both wanted what was best for the crew, just like Two. 

“You were saying, One? Three?” Two asked, because One hadn’t stopped staring at Three.

“No,” Three said slowly, staring right back at One. “I’m good.”

“You’re good,” Two repeated skeptically.

“Yeah.” Three twisted his head around, gracing Two with that cocky, reckless smile of his that he like to wear when he was doing something he shouldn’t, something dangerous. “This guy here has good instincts sometimes, so I’ll trust him. My vote goes with Pretty Boy, whatever he thinks we should do.”

Suddenly it felt like everyone was staring at him, watching to see what One was going to say and there wasn’t any code when Three turned his way again, wasn’t any tap or nudge against his leg to let him know what Three wanted him to say. The choice was on him and Three was still wearing a smile, but something softer, a curl of his lips like an inside joke and it felt like One couldn’t breathe.

“You’re just going to give up your vote?” Five piped up, voice doubtful and face surprised as she leaned in, lip caught between her teeth while she stared like she was searching for the marks of a forgery on Three’s skin.

“I’m just agreeing to agree,” Three drawled. 

 

 *** * *** Zero: What marks them as special *** * ***

 

There was never really a time One forgot he was supposed to be a criminal. Always being directed at shady deals by Calchek or some other group that tracked them down made it hard to forget what was expected of them and having their steps filled with constant vigilance for anyone to recognize them as wanted ensured they remembered what they were known for.

One may not have remembered what guilt he should carry, but he knew the itemized list of crimes his face made him claim responsibility for and knew that was what people would assume him capable of. The truth was One didn’t know what he would or wouldn’t do when pushed far enough and ignorance of the past, no matter how many people might wish for it, brought no solace on sleepless nights.

Those did happen, he thought they might happen to all of them since there were times he would get up to walk aimlessly along the corridors of the Raza and be confronted with the bland helpfulness of the Android, who would inquire if he needed anything and then repeat the details of anyone else that wasn’t asleep, if any of them.

Depending on how tired and cranky he was, sometimes One thought it was creepy just how closely she kept tabs on them, but mostly he thought it was sweet that she kept up with their well-being. Logically, he knew there wasn’t an emotion reason for her to do it, that it was instead probably part of maintenance to keep track of how well both the Raza and its crew was functioning, but it was nice to think about the Android fussing in her own way over how much they’d eaten or how long they’d slept.

Or it was until she tattled to Two, who would ask if someone hadn’t been sleeping well and then check if she thought the answer was a lie. A little sleep trouble was apparently fine as long as you admitted it, but lying to say you slept like a baby meant a look that was equal parts of disapproval and disappointment, complete with Two dropping hints about tranquilizers. 

Being sleepless was just a thing that happened sometimes, a touch of insomnia didn’t mean a serious problem, or that was One’s opinion, who thought it should have been expected. They spent most of their time in a spaceship, cradled by a vast, empty darkness and the light in the ship was always false, either too bright and invasive or something burned to dimness that made everything seem washed out. Too much time in there felt confining and One never passed up the chance to leave the ship if he could, no matter what sort of planet they were near.

They didn’t really need anything, not with the desperation they did at the beginning and only half of them went down onto the planet. Two was reportedly coordinating something with powerful people, hence their stop to ensure there was absolutely nothing any of them wanted or needed before they disappeared among the stars for a job, Four was likely training since anything else the man did was a mystery to One, and Three had made a dismissive comment about cleaning his guns, something One would almost call a compulsion.

Six was, as always, the person in charge of getting the supplies that Two wanted to make sure actually made it back to the ship and Five had gone with him, although if it was to help or just because she could was uncertain. She was the youngest of them all, it seemed like her curiosity to explore would have been the greatest, but One was the person out on his own exploring the streets of a planet he couldn’t remember the name of.

He’d only wanted to feel the warmth of a sun at midday heat up the back of his neck and soak into the skin hidden by his shirt and allow the wind to catch and chill the rest of him, that was all. Different planets had different smells associated with them, breezes carried different fumes and aromas and suns came in different shades according to their life cycle, those were details that should be appreciated and One really didn’t have anything in mind other than enjoying nature during a little downtime so he could remember just how much he also appreciated the thrill of life on a spaceship. He wasn’t looking for trouble and it really was a complete accident when he found himself in the middle of an illegal arms deal.

In his defense, who conducted their criminal activity in the _daylight_?

As expected, none of them were that keen to have a witness and One was diving for cover and firing before the others had even finished shouting at him. It must have been a first meeting to feel each other out or work out details, there were hardly over a dozen people altogether and while One knew from experience just how much damage a small team could do, none of the criminal hopefuls were as good as his team. None of them had swords or daggers like Four, none of them had the fighting skills of Two, the aim of Three, or the strength of Six, so none of them knew how to handle someone used to fighting next to professionals like One. Five might have been the escape artist that excelled at disappearing, but One could still duck and dodge, keeping track of how many people fell as he kept firing off rounds and wondering if he should let anyone know he’d gotten himself into a spot of trouble.

“They’ll never let me live this down,” One muttered to himself as bullets sank into a wall near his head. “Can’t even go off on my own without getting shot at.”

He could hear the mocking perfectly clear inside of his head and One let out a groan of frustration as he moved quickly to a new striking point, hoping he could find a way to gloss over the incident back at the Raza while also trying to figure out where the shooters were hiding. There were only a couple left as far as he could tell, which meant only a few risks that could run off and cause trouble for him or the rest of the Raza in the future. It was uncharitable, but One didn’t think they would be capable of doing much damage compared to the things Calchek put them through, which didn’t stop him from leaning around the edge of his cover and taking another shot, his target dropping.

Another way to look at it, One rationalized to himself, was he was doing his part to help keep the streets of a random planet he would probably never visit again safe. There were enough criminals running around without letting the survivor get better at the game and go for revenge, One thought he should know since he happened to be a criminal, memory or not, and three shots later left him as the only man standing.

“Sorry,” He muttered apologetically, keeping his gun in his hand and looking around cautiously, not wanting to find out that there was a final gunman waiting around in hiding. Time passed in drags of measured breaths, but One didn’t hear anyone moving and there weren’t any sudden shots, leading him to emerge from his hiding place and approach the crate everyone had been bickering over.

As he opened it up, One saw neat rows of weapons that admittedly didn't make a very big shipment, not even half the guns that had been stolen from the Raza by Jace Corso, which meant it must have been a test trial for their business. Maybe even a sort of sample pack since none of the guns looked exactly the same as far as he could tell and One started to smile as he looked around and spotted a case he was willing to bet was the money meant to be exchanged for the weaponry.

He didn’t know how much money it was, but hopefully it would work as an apology to smooth over his accidental burst of trouble and One grabbed the handle for the wheeled platform the crate was on, pushing it back the way he came and making certain to grab the bag on his way by. A quick yank of the zipper to confirm contents and it was quickly closed again, dropped on top of the crate as One wheeled it as innocently as he could back towards the dock where the Raza was waiting.

He didn't make eye contact with anyone as he made his way back through the streets and there was absolutely nothing for people to see, certainly not a pretty guy pushing around a crate of illegal weapons topped off with an undisclosed amount of money. It sounded like a ridiculous story, but at least he was more likely to live it down as long as he had something to show for getting into the fight and One, not the kind of guy to gamble much and never against Five since she was a dirty cheat, would have placed bets that they’d run into new trouble within a week that would eclipse what he’d done.

As he made his way onto the Raza, he went to the main room where he found Two looking at a console with the Android at her shoulder, her gaze flicking up to see who it was and then her head coming up when she looked at him a second time. “What’s that?” She asked, shrewd eyes searching for hints.

Grabbing the bag from the crate, One walked over to push it into her arms with the assurance of, “Don’t worry, I handled it.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Two informed him as he walked away, frowning until she opened the bag. “How did - where are you going?”

One, already wheeling to crate down the hallway, didn’t even bother to look back as he shouted, “Need to make a delivery.”

“We’re talking about this later!”

Of course they were, but One knew he could live with that because hopefully the money would lessen any lectures about risk and there was also the part where at least one person would be on his side. His path through the corridors had taken One to the part of the Raza that housed the living quarters, the hall a gentle curve and a single wheel on the cart squeaked as One came to a halt outside a door. Pressing at the outside button, he waited with a patience that had grown since first waking up without a memory and eventually the door slid open, framing a man that looked first at him and then at the crate before furrowing his brow in confusion.

“What the hell?” Three questioned eloquently, stepping aside to let One wheel the crate in. "This isn't the storage room."

“Brought you a gift,” He said as he pushed the cart over to Three’s little table and stopped, letting out a relieved noise at not having to wheel it around any longer before stretching. 

“You brought me a wooden box,” Three corrected dryly, arms crossed as he moved to join One next to the crate. 

“Sorry, didn’t have time to stop and get a ribbon for it.” One quipped, waving at the lid. “Go ahead, open it.”

“Does it bite?” Three asked, not distrustfully, but instead teasing since he wasn't even using the tone One thought of as ‘the instigator voice’, the one he used specifically to push buttons.

Humming noncommittally, One stepped back to watch as Three moved the lid, an absolutely brilliant smile lighting up his face as he laughed, hands greedily reaching in and grabbing one of the guns. His hands moved over it quickly, checking the barrel and staring down the sights, testing the weight of it in his palm before setting it aside to immediately begin inspecting another with a focus One rarely saw.

“I thought you could use some new toys,” One offered in explanation, not waiting for an invitation before sitting down on Three’s couch and making himself comfortable, not trying to hide the easy amusement in his eyes.

“These aren’t toys, these are works of art.” There was a hint of passion in his tone that exposed just how serious Three was about his guns as he corrected One, the attachment he would form to them already obvious from the care he used to set each weapon down on the table. “It’s going to take some time to get to know all of them and find just the right names.”

Biting off a chuckle, One realized it was also going to take a while for Three to finish cataloging all of his new guns and adjusted his position on the couch, stretching out on it and folding his arms behind his head while thinking distantly that a nap sounded nice. “Of course, need to have the right names,” One muttered, not sure if Three was talking to him or just talking, some of his comments nothing more than appreciative murmurs towards the weapons themselves.

“Watch it, even Four would tell you it’s important that you - what are you looking at me like that for?” Three questioned suddenly when he finally stopped staring at the guns to look at One. He looked puzzled as if he’d only just realized the guns weren’t the most interesting thing in the room and maybe he should start questioning what was going on, the feeling of having that attention and curiosity pointed at him no longer something One no longer balked at.

“Nothing,” One said automatically before correcting himself to say, “You. You’re glowing like a ray of sunshine.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t understand the bond between a man and his firearm, Pretty Boy.”

“Whatever you say, Sunshine.”


End file.
